


Obscure

by ReceiverofWisdom



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, I just barely got into this fandom, So I tried, Tumblr Prompt, and it's my first time writing these two, clippings of events, it was a vague prompt given to me by an anon, little bit of angry flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReceiverofWisdom/pseuds/ReceiverofWisdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt request. Peridot and Jasper are stranded on an island with one another. Segmented events and clippings of what occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obscure

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing in terms of writing these two. But it's a progress. If you want to request a prompt ask for my tumblr and send me one.

She had watched the other pace the shore for hours on end.  
  
The sands wore away faster than they were replaced by the stretching waters, and Jasper made no notable effort to escape the growing tide that had gone from lapping at her feet to tugging at her knees and thighs.  
  
An irritable part of Peridot, the one just slightly less focused on the sand that invaded all of the areas sand should _not_ be in, hoped the tide would sweep her Escort out into its depths. She catered to and fed the fantasy in order to pass time, until the primary theme of the fantasy had started stalking up the beach towards her, hair flattened out and teeth bared. The skin-tight material clung to Jasper’s form abnormally, and shimmered in the dying sun.  
  
She had apparently tripped, slipped, or been overcome by a particularly weighted wave. Peridot had indeed lost track of time and the rise of the tides.  
  
How could she have missed something so priceless? The fantasy had come to life right before her eyes and yet, with much irony, she had failed to capture the moment.  
  
Peridot does not bother to hide her amusement. She sputters a short laugh, and leans forward from the log she had been resting against; her expression, for once in a multitude of days, borderline gleeful.  
  
“ _Did you finally slip_?” She questions in a tone that is more accusatory, cackling and rocking backwards while Jasper’s face burns and the whiteness of her teeth broaden between her snarled lips.  
  
Instead of giving _that_ attention, Peridot pulls up a small green box on her visor’s display, attempting to adjust the time display of her visual recording, searching for the glorious occurrence that at lack of attention had caused her to forfeit.  
  
Jasper’s rough tone, bewildered and stricken at the Technician’s behaviour, antagonizes her patience but she places it aside, eyes scanning the time bar.  
  
The Commander reaches down, sinking her talons into the jawline of the Technician, jerking her head upwards sharply enough for Peridot to cringe, and dart her eyes from the visual display to look into the furious stare that has her skin crawling.  
  
“I _didn’t slip_ ,” Jasper rumbles, loosening her hold when she has the attention that she desires. Water drizzles down her face thickly even after parting from the ocean’s embrace for a fair amount of time. Her already disheveled hair stuck up in multiple directions, and despite experiencing trepidation over the predatory gaze of her comrade, Peridot has to repress a bitter smile.  
  
“Ah, those tricky Barracuda.”  
  
“What? I – what _is_ that?”  
  
Jasper leans away into a retreat when Peridot stabs a metallic finger far too close to her eye for an answer, and rumbles her disapproval.  
  
Peridot misses the ship. There, she had lockable doors and several corridors of sharp turns and escapes that catered to her memory. On the island, privacy and personal space are unfortunately rare concepts.  
  
In the least, Jasper is unable to see what greeted the smaller gem’s eyes on the side of the screen that faces her. She flits her eyes along the screen, adjusting the timespan and clipping long sections of Jasper’s pacing wherein nothing of any particular interest occurs.  
  
Unable to see this, Jasper shoots the technician an uncomfortable and scrutinizing look while she wrings out a wild section of her hair. Nothing dries well on the beach, they had come to discover.  
  
“You’re staring at my chest?”  
  
“ **No** , I’m not. I’m trimming a visual record.”  
  
“You were _recording_?”  
  
Peridot cannot see why the other is surprised or miffed in the slightest. She rolls her eyes, and ends up inadvertently rewinding a section of the clip. Peeved, she slides to the side towards the edge of the log and turns away.  
  
Unfortunately, Jasper takes it as an invitation to sit down. When she does, the unbalanced log jerks upwards on the other end and nearly sends the Technician scrambling into the invasive sands. It earns the Commander a slap on the bicep.  
  
“Watch what you’re doing!”  
  
“You’re apparently doing that for me. How _long_ were you recording?”  
  
Peridot barely shrugs her shoulders, downcast from her once-amused mood, she almost forfeits her effort to search out the missed section of the recording. She increases her clipping speed, and witnesses Jasper suddenly plummet face-first into the rolling, foamy waters with little to no warning.  
  
It almost immediately lightens her irritation, and she sputters into laughter. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave a crater! How does sand taste, you _idiot_?”  
  
Jasper instantaneously raises her tone, crushing her fingers against the soggy log beneath them. “I _didn’t fall_. Something _tripped me_ you ignorant sack of –.”  
  
“ _Right_.” Peridot cannot section any more sarcasm into her tone. With some credit to her escort, she carefully rewinds the clip, setting a marker moments before the large gem submits to the downfall of gravity.  
  
In the interesting process of watching everything unfold in slow-motion, she does notice an abnormality in the colour of the water as it passes from Jasper’s thighs towards her calves. A sickly purple, mending with the shape and curvature of the water. A few seconds of continuation, and Peridot is alarmed to notice that the colour solidifies around her associate’s lower calve, temporarily rooting Jasper to the spot before melting away with the retreating tide as a mortified Warmonger is thrown forward into more rolling tides.  
  
The Technician is slightly torn between a certain amount of horror, and a certain amount of hilarity as the slowed clip progresses towards a frantic Jasper clawing her way out of the water, blind from layers of hair plastered to her face.  
  
The recording is chopped, standardized into an appropriate speed, and stored.  
  
As soon as that is done, Peridot stands, looks out towards the rolling sea, and turns on her heel to march up the beach and back towards the thick line of trees. Dealing with the probability of enormous sea monsters is not on her agenda.  
  
“Did you hear me?” Jasper bellows, standing up from the log and remaining leaned over to untangle the bottom of her hair from the cracks she had put into the driftwood. Afterwards she is quick to pursue the other gem, hands clenched into fists at her side.  
  
Peridot quickens her pace.  
  
“No, I didn’t. If you want to stay out there and continue to pace all night, do it. I’m done with the shore. No one is going to spot us from where we are anyway.”  
  
“Done with the –.” Jasper whirls, throwing a look back towards the rising waves, before jogging to catch the other. “Did you see what tripped me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Something _did_!” The Warmonger seems more enthused about being right than learning about what had brought about her fit of embarrassment.  
  
Peridot can tell by the way she puffs her chest and settles into a comfortable half-smile of self-righteousness that allows at least one  repulsively large canine to poke out past a swollen lip.  
  
Peridot misses the ship.  
  
When Jasper tracks her all the way back to their makeshift base while continuing to grossly misuse her ability to talk and articulate her voice into an almost wholly functioning language of angry assumptions and egotistical remarks, Peridot even debates sleep. Or sticking her entire head into the sand like one of the large earth birds. Maybe the species was onto something.  
  
“It was purple. Shut **up** now.” She rasps, running her fingers through her hair.  
  
Jasper pauses her verbal assault undecidedly, hanging her jaw open.  
  
It gives Peridot enough time to step into the shelter, and slam the flimsy door. Surprisingly, the gem on the other side stays quiet for a good five minutes, before she’s pounding a fist into the sodden door.  
  
“It’s going to rain.”  
  
\-----  
  
Peridot could list several issues she viewed with the drenched, hulking figure taking up much more of the cramped space of the interior than necessary. For one, she was dry, and Jasper was not.  
  
The Commander is practically caked in sand, shells, and twigs.  
  
Whatever found itself suitable to cling to her.  
  
Jasper catches her staring with peevish disdain, and tosses a sea weed her way. It cakes a quarter of her face and a quarter of her visor in oceanic slime.  
  
\-----  
  
She locates an enormous chunk of her ship, a sad emerald bulk amongst grey crags of rock.  
  
Jasper nudges her in the rear with a foot, and she _nearly_ shrieks as her own weight works against her, threatening to send her over the edge of the cliffs she had been peering down.  
  
The same individual who threatens to condemn the state of her gem also happens to be her savior. Peridot wonders what she could have ever done at any point in her life to deserve it.  
  
Jasper hooks her foot around Peridot’s midriff, shoving her backwards before she can topple off of the edge, and _guffaws_.  
  
Peridot wants to visit the coastline again, and personally introduce the sea beast to her Escort. Maybe if she offers a sacrifice, she will get a free ride back to the mainland; back to her communications hub to call for reinforcements, or a more pliable escort.  
  
\-----  
  
From Earth, she feels almost slight and unimportant. It is an almost _human_ consideration that coils hotly, uncomfortably in the pit of her chest.  
  
Looking towards the expanse of a starry sky, there is naught but the void and glimmering lights of long depleted celestial bodies. So she stares into the darkness between the stars and pretends, for fleeting moments, that her eyes have landed on the Homeworld so impossibly far off.  
  
It is a very _technical_ way of thinking about it, and Jasper fears that Peridot is gradually rubbing off on her.  
  
Metaphorically, of course, because surely the way the Technician frustratedly strums her fingers through the waves of the Commander’s tangled, grimy hair could not bring about the impulse to evoke a deep-rooted deliberation of the cosmos and its sheer breadth.  
  
Her bones feel as if they are of lead and while the intricacy of the sky holds her attention, Jasper’s head is a spiral of white noise. Her throat burns with raw air and the deep sound that escapes her is merited to the attention given to the soreness of her salt-worn skin by the still-wandering physique of the other Gem.  
  
When Jasper makes another more guttural noise in the back of her throat, Peridot retracts her fingers from their path of bordering affection, and the former immediately stills, caught between an unimpressed breath and voicing her will for the other to resume.  
  
In a slighter effort to coax the Tech back into action, Jasper shimmies the tips of her claws up the other’s spine, and Peridot shifts uncomfortably where she lays, shooing the hand away as soon as it invades her space.  
  
It is an ironic concept to present, Jasper believes, considering how the Technician opted to invade _her_ space by lying half of her body over a quarter of Jasper’s larger one, threading through the mass of her hair, claiming that it _bothered_ her to see it in such a filthy state.  
  
“Stop it. Or I’ll let your hair suffer in knots.”  
  
“I wasn’t planning on hurting you.”  
  
“The _noises_. Stop _them_.”  
  
When Jasper complies, and the hush of waves is less than background noise, Peridot resumes her wandering bit by bit.  
  
The larger Gem has the decency to wait for a fair amount of time, before inhaling at length, and expressing her enjoyment, much to the utter dismay of her comrade, with a low and lengthy moan. She fades off into boils of mirthful laughter, while Peridot shoves at her and leans away to get up, hissing about how _absolutely ridiculous_ her Escort is.  
  
Reaching out an arm to recruit the smaller Gem back to her side results in a row of teeth marks imprinted into her skin, and Jasper ends up with far more tangles in her hair, and a brooding Technician back into the task of prying them out, albeit with far less tact in caution.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to give me some feedback on this I would love to hear what you think about it.


End file.
